


don't touch me (I want to rip you apart)

by deliciously_devient



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Magic!Stiles, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nobody Dies, Polyamory, Underage - Freeform, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the new kid on the block at Beacon Hills high. He just wants to keep his head down and make it through the next three years without incident.</p>
<p>Ha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't touch me (I want to rip you apart)

**Author's Note:**

> comments give me inspiration to continue writing, so if you want more, please leave one!

Stiles met his own eyes in the mirror, swallowing hard as he took in his sallow cheeks, the deep bags under his eyes caused by too little sleep and too many nightmares. He sighed softly to himself before he left the bathroom, scrubbing at his tired eyes and wondering if this was the place he'd finally be able to get a full nights sleep.

He grabbed his backpack on the way downstairs, wrinkling his nose at the smell of fresh paint that still lingered, so much more intense to his more sensitive nose than his father's, and hummed softly to himself as he rummaged around the kitchen for a poptart. His dad was out, having picked up a late night shift from the station; he and stiles probably wouldn't see each other for a while, with the shitty shifts he was picking up as the new deputy, but that suited Stiles just fine. He loved his father, but the pain of their move was still fresh, making shame curl in his gut sharply.

He finished his sugary breakfast, swiped the crumbs off his shirt and took a deep breath before he could get himself moving, slinging himself carelessly into his Jeep and taking off before he could come up with a reason to sequester himself in his room and demand his father allow him to take classes online to finish his GED.

He arrived early enough to make rounds to all his teachers and get them to cross out his horrendous given name and write in Stiles on their rosters, and spent the minutes before his first period munching on a bag of chips, watching other students arrive and take their seats from the corner of the room.

Stiles' nose twitched as a student entered, one with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. His mouth watered, and he forced his eyes away, clenching his hands and taking a deep breath as his heartrate rocketed up.

_Werewolf,_ his mind supplied, and he fought with the urge to  _take_ , pushing it away with memories of the last time he'd...indulged.

"Hey!" 

Stiles looked up, and  _of course_ the werewolf decided to sit next to him. He pushed his thoughts away, grinning easily at the other boy and sniffing as casually as he could. The werewolf's scent was sweet, almost like honey, with some other, rougher scents like thyme and basil; newly turned, then.

"Hey," he murmured back, returning the smile he was given shyly.

"You must be the new kid. I'm Scott," he said, offering his hand. Stiles found himself taking it without thinking, the touch settling his other urges.

_Family,_ something in the back of his mind whispered.

"Stiles," he replied, feeling a little more confident now that this new person -Scott- no longer smelled of  _prey._

"If you want I can totally like, show you around and stuff," Scott continued, face earnest, and he seemed so much like an overeager puppy that Stiles wanted to pat his head and call him a good boy. But he was sure that was offensive to werewolfkind, so he didn't.

Besides, he was supposed to be keeping a low profile; that meant  _not_ cluing in other supernatural creatures that he was also a supernatural creature.

"Uh, sure, yeah, that'd be great," Stiles replied, grinning when Scott's face lit up as though he'd been promised everything he wanted for Christmas.

**

Scott made good on his promise to show Stiles around, and before the end of the day he felt like he'd met nearly everyone in the school; it seemed that Stiles wasn't the only one who found Scott's endless enthusiasm for everything endearing. One person in particular, Lydia Martin, made Stiles' teeth ache with  _want,_ but he couldn't quite pin what she was, which was a clue that she didn't know or hadn't come into any of her power yet.

He left school that day with a grin on his face, thinking that it wouldn't be hard to fit in here; there were only two other supernatural creatures (which, it was surprisingly hard to find a high school with so little; he and his dad had really lucked out) and one wasn't even aware of what she was. He could see he and his father settling here, in this sleepy little town.

Night fell, and, as per usual, Stiles found himself unable to sleep, the light doze he'd managed cut off by a vicious nightmare. He sighed to himself, and peeled himself out of his comfortable pajamas and dressed, heading out of the house with hunched shoulders.

He found himself wandering aimlessly in the woods, feet quiet and mind wandering, considering hunting down a deer or something to slake his hunger with, so that he wouldn't have a slip up at school when confronted with Lydia again. Whatever she was, it was  _powerful,_ and the darker parts of Stiles wanted it fiercely.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, or his surroundings, so when he was suddenly confronted with glowing red eyes, he couldn't bring his body to heel in time.

He felt his eyes sharpen, a blue tint going over the world as his teeth cut his lips, the scent of his own blood making a growl reverberate in his chest as he stared down the alpha werewolf. It was huge, hulking, twisted; the scent of madness lingered on its fur, and power radiated from it, making Stiles  _ache._

"Think very carefully about what you want to do," Stiles growled out past a mouthful of too-sharp teeth, taking a step forward, muscles preparing to leap against his will. "Think  _very_ carefully, because a fight with me is not a fight you'll win."

The alpha stepped forward, a low, menacing growl sounding out, and Stiles' heart started beating rabbit-quick, his breathing becoming shallower as he felt his grip on his control slipping. His knuckles cracked as his claws came out, a sharp pain at his tailbone as his long, thin tail whipped out. He grimaced; he liked these pants.

The alpha tilted it's head to the side, eyes narrowed to slits as it reconsidered. Stiles muscles shook with effort, fighting hard not to pounce, not to lash out, at all that  _power_ sitting there, just waiting for him to take it.

Another growl sounded, from behind Stiles, and he jumped slightly as another werewolf leapt past him, tackling the alpha to the ground. There was a brief, violent struggle full of snapping jaws and blood and tearing cloth, before the attacking wolf was on the ground, and the alpha was retreating, the scent of it's blood a tantalizing treat Stiles wanted to chase down.

The other wolf was suddenly in his face, snarling, blue eyes flashing, intimidating despite the limp in his gait. Stiles backed up, back pressing into a tree, as the other werewolf advanced on him. He was still trying to keep a hold on himself, tail lashing back and forth as he tried to distract himself enough to not go running off in search of the escaped alpha.

"You're on Hale Pack territory," the werewolf snarled, and his  _scent_ hit Stiles. The effect it had on him was nearly instantaneous, making his eyes fade back to their normal brown, claws and fangs and tails sliding off his skin as if they had never been, his eyes going half lidded as he inhaled the sweet/spicy/smoke scent.

"Sorry," he muttered, swallowing, limbs feeling heavy, mind going a little fuzzy as the beta advanced on him. He swayed toward the wolf, tipping his chin up, exposing the long column of his throat, an instinctual gesture.

That gave the wolf pause, his nostrils flaring as he caught Stiles' scent, eyes flashing brighter for a moment, and then he was even closer, shoving his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck, snuffling quietly. Stiles moaned softly, nosing along the wolf's ear, feeling something deep inside him  _settle_ in a way it never had before.

The hunger for more power had always been there, in the back of his mind; the urge to take, to hunt, to tear apart was always under his skin, a product of what he was, was always buzzing just under his tongue. But the touch of this wolf, clawed fingers curling carefully around the back of his neck, made all of that hunger fade away, centered him in a way he hadn't been since his mom had died.

"Who are you?" the wolf murmured into his throat, and Stiles found himself clutching at the lapels of his jacket, unwilling to let the wolf get very far from him.

"My name is Stiles," he murmured back, whining when the wolf pulled away from his throat, eyes dilated.

"Derek," the wolf replied, hissing when he set his weight on his wounded leg. The scent of blood hit Stiles' nose, and he fluttered into action, suddenly panicked.

"You're hurt!" he exclaimed, pushing Derek against a tree to get a look at the wound.

"It'll heal," the wolf said dismissively, trying to shove Stiles away. He growled, falling to his knees in front of Derek, pulling his torn pants away to get a look at the long, angry claw mark on his thigh. It was uncomfortably close to the groin area, and Derek shifted, looking uncomfortable. "W-what are you doing?"

"Shh," Stiles murmured, dipping his head down and running his tongue along the jagged cut. Derek hissed, not in pain, and Stiles smirked, knowing he was feeling the effects of his venom.

Stiles licked along the cut again, the taste of blood making his cock harden, but he ignored it, watching the way the flesh of his mate -because there was no doubt in Stiles' mind that this wolf was his mate- seal itself back together slowly under his ministrations. It took a few minutes, but the cut was a pink line, barely a scratch, by the time he was done. He stood, panting slightly as he licked the blood from his lips, Derek watching the movement of his tongue with lust in his eyes.

"What  _are_ you?" Derek murmured, wonder coloring his voice, and Stiles shrugged. 

"No one is really quite sure. There's only ever been only bloodline, and I'm the only living one," he replied with a shrug. "I...do you want to come back to my house? I, uh, I don't want to be around if that alpha decides to show up again."

_I won't be able to stop myself if it does,_ he thought to himself.

Derek nodded slowly, and let Stiles take his hand as he led him back to his house. 


End file.
